


The Island Book

by LadyCricket



Category: Niche (Video Game)
Genre: Harm to Animals, I'm gonna try to keep it PG most of the time, Mostly original characters, My First Fanfic, anywho there is some violence but nothing excessively gruesome, based on a sandbox game I made for myself, but yes the nichelings have mates, not sure if I've missed anything I don't have the whole thing planned out right now, not sure if it really needs relationship tags romance isn't really a focus, um human raised by nichelings au?, with cameos from Jessimew's pantheon, with darker chapters going into PG 13
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCricket/pseuds/LadyCricket
Summary: The story of the life of the stangest Nicheling(?) who ever lived. Borrows heavily from The Jungle Book (not the Disney version)





	1. A lucky encounter

The story of the strangest Nicheling that ever lived begins on Mingle Island, where grassland, savanna, swamp and beach mingle together into one. The tribe that lived there was similarly "mingled", with Nichelings large and small, fierce and docile, striped, plain, and spotted all living together in harmony. This was a peaceful, easygoing tribe with little use for titles like "alpha" or "omega", but for tradition's sake, the alpha title was given to the island's oldest and most respected couple, Gregor and Rosalind.

The two were as different as berries and meat, but in ways that made them just right for each other. Gregor, the male, was an excellent gatherer, with nimble fingers on one hand and a strong nut-cracking jaw. His back was covered in long, prickly spines, but outside of that, he had no offensive capabilities at all, and preferred to stay away from fighting altogether. When he and Rosalind first arrived on the island together, his skills at breaking nuts and picking berries proved invaluable at providing their little group with food.

Rosalind by contrast was an underwhelming gatherer, but an excellent hunter. She was a rather petite Nicheling, but with sharp claws on one paw and a sturdy crown of horns fitting of Anameme herself she could send any Bearyena running for the hills. She also had unusually large ears perfect for tracking down sneaky little Rabbils and sharp little poison teeth good for bringing down even the largest enemies with a little hit-and-run. Even her small frame proved to be an advantage, allowing her to pounce at blinding speed. She almosts always preferred meat to berries if both were available, but she made an exception for the tart purple berries that make most Nichelings sick.

The day that Gregor discovered the strangest Nicheling that ever lived happened right after a long rain. Like all good gatherers, he understood that this was the perfect time for berry picking and headed higher up the hill where his favorite patch was, hoping the local Rabbils didn't get there first. Normally Rosalind would offer to go with him to snatch them up, but today she was looking after their newborn cub. The cries of a blue eagle had been heard resonating in the distance, and nothing would convince her to leave their baby behind for even a short time. So, Gregor went alone.

The bushes on the hill were still full when he got there, to Gregor's delight. He spent at least a few hours happily picking the bushes clean before he heard a strange little cry behind him. He was startled at first, being a rather timid Nicheling, but it didn't sound like any kind of predator. He paused to see if it would happen again, and it did, a bit louder this time. It didn't sound like a Rabbil either. Cautiously, he turned around. The little mewing cry seemed to be coming from behind the large nut trees behind him. The berries weren't going anywhere, so he thought he might as well investigate.

Behind the trees he found a basket woven from grass, and inside the basket was the strangest little creature Gregor had ever seen. She had no fur at all, just a lighter brown skin as smooth and hairless as a goldleech. Gregor was awestruck, and a little worried that the poor thing might be sick; he had heard of Nichelings' fur falling out due to infection. But it seemed awfully lively for a sick creature, reaching out for Gregor as soon as it saw him. This was when he saw that it had nimble fingers much like his, on both sides no less, which he couldn't help but find endearing. He gingerly picked it up, which was when he saw that it had no tail. He barely had time to process this new information before he heard the gentle "whump" of a landing bird and the entire grove suddenly went dark.

He turned around to see the golden eyes of a large blue eagle with curved, wicked talons and one slightly crooked wing; boring right into his.

"Hello." said the eagle, deadpan as a stone.

"H...Hello, uh...what's your -"

"Crookwings. Do you mind giving me back my meal?"

"... excuse me?"

"My meal. I dropped it here by accident. Give it here, please."

Gregor felt frozen. With his eyes still fixed on Crookwings', his paws instinctively tightened around the basket. The bird fidgeted impatiently.

"...ahem. Yes, that one. It's mine. Give it here?"

Gregor regained just enough of his composure to think about the situation. This 'Crookwings' was one of the eagles that circle above nests with new cubs, day after day, waiting for the mother to look away for just a moment so they could snatch the baby away. So if this eagle was after this strange little creature, was this... a cub of some kind? A Nicheling cub, even?

Something hardened inside Gregor, and he clutched the basket a little tighter and his spines stood up a little straighter.

"No."

"No? Am I hearing this right?" Crookwings' eyes grew more intense. "_No?_"

Gregor was quiet.

"My little Nicheling, do you possibly not understand what is going on here? I am not here for you. You may put my meal down, and I will leave you be. Its tribe has been terrible to me. Don't you see? Do you see what they did to my wing?" The eagle stretched out his left wing to show Gregor what he meant. It only stretched out half as far as was normal for a bird and had several feathers sticking out at odd angles, indicating that it had been broken in the past. Crookwings withdrew his wing and continued.

"Yes, now you see. That creature's tribe broke my wing. Ever since, I have been forced to fly only for short periods, and very close to the trees. It is terrible to try to hunt with a crooked wing. I am forced to rely on easier prey. So, I took that little creature. It's fair, isn't it? They ruined my wing. I deserve to take meals from them when I can. Don't you agree?"

Gregor was astounded at Crookwing's lack of shame. True, Nichelings had to coexist with various predators, and were themselves predators of Rabbils and Crabbits. It was simply the circle of life; Nichelings didn't have to like it, just understand it. But no Bearyena or Nicheling had the utter _gall_ to simply ask their prey, to their face, to hand over a fellow creature, particularly not a helpless infant. Gregor's own timidity had melted away in the face of his outrage.

"No, I do _not_ agree, Crookwings. I'm terribly sorry about your wing, but I'm afraid I will not be handing over this... cub."

Gregor took the handle of the basket in both paws and quickly walked in the direction of a nearby thicket, only to be stopped by Crookwings' curved beak slamming into the ground in front of him. The creature in the basket began to wail, and Crookwings' voice took on a much more menacing tone.

"My little Nicheling," growled Crookwings, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Let me reiterate. I am very cross right now, and very, _very_ hungry. I have no quarrel with you, but that can easily change. Put down that basket and walk away, and we can both forget this ever happened. All right?"

Gregor practically barked in response. "I mean what I say! Now leave!" He took the basket handle in his mouth and ran to the side on all fours. In less than a second, Crookwings attempted to pick him up in his beak, but put him down just as quickly after Gregor's quills pricked his tongue. Crookwings was left behind cawing and screeching in rage as Gregor ran away into the thicket.


	2. The Strangest Nicheling

When she first encountered the strangest Nicheling that ever lived, Rosalind was at her nest, watching her newborn daughter Sandy as she clumsily toddled around. Rosalind's nesting site was an especially safe one, surrounded on all sides by tall trees that hid it from the eyes of blue eagles circling high above. Gregor had suggested a good number of alternatives; this one close to the best foraging sites, that one with a perfect view of the lake; but Rosalind had put her paw down for the nesting site with the best security. Her family took the safety of cubs very seriously, and she had a token of three sky-blue feathers tucked under the nest to remind her. Her mother had gifted them to her before she set off for Mingle Island with Gregor and her little brother Dusk, as a reminder for when she had cubs of her own. Thankfully, the cries of the blue eagles were only heard very distantly, but Rosalind didn’t like to take chances when it came to her cubs.

The memory of that day stayed fresh in Rosalind's mind for years to come. Little Sandy had just learned how to roll onto her back and was watching the leaves wave around in the wind, fascinated in the way that only babies can be when seeing something for the first time. Her brother Dusk spent the night hunting and was taking his usual nap just outside the entrance, with the bright sun bringing out the slightest blue highlights in his inky black fur. Fennick, their lookout, was scanning the tops of the grass with his eyes and flicking his enormous ears around. It seemed almost unnecessary on a relaxing day like this, but Rosalind had never known Fennick to relax under any circumstances. It made sense for him; he was born with one crippled paw and had no fighting ability whatsoever. A Nicheling like Fennick needed to be aware of danger long before the danger was aware of him.

Her mate Gregor had taken off that morning to one of his favorite berry-picking sites following yesterday's rain and wasn't expected to return until the afternoon, since he would normally stick around to treat himself to some fresh berries before coming back with a stockpile for the tribe. So imagine Rosalind, Dusk, and Fennick's surprise when Gregor came back not even an hour after he left, with a strange basket in his mouth, running as if a Killer Bearyena were in pursuit.

Fennick heard him long before he actually reached the nesting site. Afraid that predators were after them, Fennick squeaked pitifully and lowered himself to the ground, trying to make himself invisible to whatever was after Gregor. That woke up Dusk, who immediately noticed Fennick's distress and snapped to attention, stalking towards the source of the noise with his lips snarling back over his sharp teeth.

Rosalind noticed Fennick hiding under the grass and Dusk getting ready for a fight, and quickly scooped up little Sandy by the nape of her neck. She stuck her head out from behind the tree trunks marking the entrance just enough to watch her mate in the distance sprinting towards them, her whole body tensed up in preparation to either run far away or defend her tribe.

Gregor nearly crashed into them before he finally stopped running. He was panting too hard to answer Dusk and Rosalind's frantic questions - "What is it?! Are you alright?! Can we fight it?!" Dusk was frantically turning back and forth looking for whatever had chased him here and was clearly confused that it wasn't there. Rosalind put Sandy down between her paws and began to interrogate Gregor in an increasingly frustrated tone.

"Gregor, what happened? Do we need to run? Are you still in danger? Darling, talk to me!"

Gregor continued gasping for breath, almost oblivious to his tribe-mates' distress. “I-I’m so sorry, Rosy. I had a big scare on the top of the hill, and I dropped the berries I was carrying, so I’m going to have to go back tomorrow, but…” Gregor turned his attention to the basket he’d brought with him and started to unwrap the fabric surrounding the interior “… he didn’t get it! It’s safe!” He noticed Rosalind’s blank stare. “Oh, I should introduce you. This is –“

"GREGOR!" shouted Dusk. "Pay attention to your tribemates! Are you or are you not being pursued by a vicious predator?!"

Gregor turned around to see the trail of trampled grass behind him, and he sighed with relief. "Nope, doesn't look like it. I guess I didn't really have to run that hard."

His three tribemates all groaned together, annoyed at getting so worked up for nothing. It was a relief to see that Gregor was safe, however.

"Not funny, Gregor." said Rosalind, pouting in frustration. "I thought we were going to have to leave the island! Do you have any idea how hard it would be on Sandy to have to flee at her age?"

Gregor just smiled at her sheepishly like a little scolded cub. "I'm sorry, dear. I guess I got a little too flustered back there.”

That was when they all heard a little mewing cry emanating from the basket. Something was moving inside under the fabric. Gregor pulled the wrappings away with his nimble paw and lifted it up for the whole tribe to see – a hairless, naked little thing with no tail.

"What...is that?" asked Rosalind with unusual softness.

"Oh... Rosalind, this is a little cub I found up at the top of the hill. There was this big... I mean, giant blue eagle that wanted to eat it, so I ran with it back here! Oh, don't worry though! I didn't see him at all on the way here."

And then everyone there forgot about being annoyed with Gregor for a moment and stared in silence at the strange, hairless little creature that he'd brought with him. It stared back with big, brown eyes, apparently as fascinated with all of them as they were baffled by it.

Fennick was the first to break the silence.

"That isn't a Nicheling, right?"

Gregor was about to correct him, but then he realized he wasn't really sure himself. He had been interrupted by Crookwings before getting a chance to resolve that question. The more he looked at it, the less sure he was that it could be a Nicheling.

"I mean, where's its fur? And what's going on with its nose?" Fennick continued. "It doesn't really look like a cub to me, Gregor."

Dusk peered in close with one side of his mouth curled upward in a confused expression. He didn't seem any more convinced than Fennick.

“…No tail, either?” he growled. “How does it have no tail if it isn’t spiny?”

Gregor was starting to feel like he'd just made an embarrassing mistake, so he puffed up his spines a bit and prepared to save face. He hastily lay the creature back into the basket and said:

"W-Well, so what if it doesn't have fur? Or a tail?!" He huffed in a way that he hoped sounded confident. "Not every Nicheling has a tail! *I* don't have a tail, Dusk!" He raised his hindquarters behind him to emphasize the point. "There are Nichelings on these islands without horns, or claws, or eyesight, or even front paws - uh, sorry Fennick," He carefully averted his eyes from Fennick's crippled left paw. "Anyway, Nichelings can be missing all sorts of things that other Nichelings have, so why can't there be a Nicheling with no fur, hmm?"

This gave the others pause. True, if this really was a Nicheling, then it was missing some fairly important traits. But the Mingle tribe already had Dusk, whose inky black fur made him stick out like a sore paw to predators and prey alike, and Fennick, whose paw was crippled from birth. Gregor and Rosalind held a firm belief as alphas that a tribe needed all kinds of members to thrive, and they were ready to welcome any member who could contribute. Even members who couldn't fight, like Fennick, or who could only hunt in the dark, like Dusk. This creature would make a strange Nicheling indeed, but the Mingle tribe believed that strange Nichelings could be good tribe-mates if given the chance.

Dusk was still somewhat skeptical. “Well… alright, for the sake of argument, let’s say this is a Nicheling. How are we supposed to raise it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_, it doesn’t have horns, claws, fur, or a tail. How is it supposed to gather or hunt? Can it even run with legs like that?”

Gregor sheepishly scratched behind his ear. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“If it is to live with us and eat our food, then it needs to have a role in life, Gregor. I know you feel sorry for it, but all Nichelings must be able to help their tribe when called upon. That is the law of the islands. We all know it. So what could it do?”

Rosalind hadn’t said anything. While the others were debating whether or not this creature could actually be a Nicheling, she was leaning in close[] Sandy had crawled right up to it and was inquisitively poking it with her nose, responding to its mew-like cries with soft little mews of her own. It was hard to say with a creature like this, but Sandy seemed to be calming it down. Cautiously, Rosalind reached out her paw to it – her running paw, the one without claws – and it reached out with its nimble little fingers and grasped it firmly. Its tiny, _tiny_ fingers. Even as the tribe’s fiercest hunter loomed over it, its big brown eyes were filled with nothing but trust.

“Dusk,” she said, snapping his attention back to her and the creature. “Look at this.”

The little thing was still grasping her paw. Dusk tilted his head quizzically. “Look at what?”

“These fingers. It has the nimblest fingers I’ve ever seen.”

Dusk looked closer. The creature had a paw with five dexterous little fingers, similar to the nimble fingers on Gregor’s paw, but on both sides.

“…ah. Perhaps it has gathering ability, then?”

Rosalind nodded decisively.

“And besides, Dusk, Nicheling or not, this is just a cub. Just like little Sandy. Cubs don’t have to hunt or gather for their tribe-mates, Dusk, they just have to grow. Could it not have potential that we won’t be able to see until it’s grown?”

“I see, Rosalind. So you are in favor of taking the cub into the tribe?”

“I am.”

Gregor allowed himself a happy little sigh. If Rosalind was planning to keep it, that was more or less the final word on the subject. He scooted up next to the basket and reached out his own nimble fingers to see if it would grasp his paw too.

This was the point where Gregor noticed sudden darkness for the second time that day, and heard the gentle *whump* of a large bird landing behind him.

Every member of the tribe froze. All were silent except for the little creature, who started to wail.

“Hello.” Said Crookwings.

[Hey, before I get into the actual author's note, I JUST learned that you can link to pictures in AO3. Without further ado, say hello to the alpha couple!]

<https://imgur.com/a/4xE2eo3>

<https://imgur.com/a/aBOR8zM>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter were originally just one chapter, but it was starting to get pretty long, so I split them up. Expect the next one soon!
> 
> If anyone has tips for making pictures visible in the fic itself rather than just linking them, please tell me.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there's no turning back now. Fortunately, I don't think Gregor's going to regret this decision.
> 
> Are you wondering why I named the alpha couple Gregor and Rosalind? That's what I like to name my first male and female when starting a sandbox run. Why those names in particular? They're named after Gregor Mendel and Rosalind Franklin. I just thought it was fitting for a genetics game.


End file.
